


Glass Houses

by nekosmuse_archive (nekosmuse)



Category: Without a Trace
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, POV Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:56:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23651188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekosmuse/pseuds/nekosmuse_archive
Summary: Written pre 2005. Posting for archival purposes.She's doing well today.
Relationships: Martin Fitzgerald/Danny Taylor, Martin Fitzgerald/Samantha Spade
Kudos: 4





	Glass Houses

_So I would have had him leave._  
  
She's doing well today.  
  
Hasn't broken down once. Hasn't snapped or bitten or cried into the bitter black liquid that passes for coffee in the office. An entire day spent going through the motions, ignoring the chaotic swirl of thoughts that is her mind and that alone is cause for pride.  
  
She's doing well today.  
  
And yet, she's not, because every so often a thought will surface.  
  
 _She should have fought harder.  
  
She should have loved him.  
  
He should have died and given her the right to grieve._  
  
The last horrifies her, because no one knows about their break up --if she can even call it that, because the word implies a relationship and that's not what they had-- so she knows no one would question her mourning.  
  
A cold thought, one she wishes had never surfaced, because it's true. This would be easier with him gone.  
  
Which is why, she supposes, she's here, guilt weighing on her chest, hands shaking and to the outside world she looks very much the part.   
  
Distraught girlfriend, nothing more.  
  
She's not, though, the girlfriend that is, and although she is distraught, it's not for him. Never for him. She told him she'd be here, though, that she'd sit by his side and, at the time, the words seemed right. Saying them good and, for that brief moment, her thoughts were still.  
  
 _Should have loved him._  
  
So unlike now and she doesn't know what's changed.  
  
It would have been so easy to love him. Easy to settle into the life he wanted for them. She tried --tries still but knows she'll never be capable of it-- spending months telling herself to fall.  
  
Telling herself she could be happy.  
  
This is as close as she'll get, though, the fact that she's here, that she's willing to be here, all she can offer.  
  
Her hands continue to shake as she pushes past the heavy glass doors that guard the intensive care unit.  
  
~*~  
  
 _So I would have had her stand and grieve._  
  
  
Hospitals are made of glass.  
  
Glass doors and glass windows and glass equipment. It blocks out sound but not sight and she sees. Broad shoulders and watery brown eyes and her place belongs to another now. She doesn't know why she didn't notice before.  
  
It's painfully obvious, Danny's hands shaking more than hers ever could and the panic in his eyes has nothing to do with guilt.  
  
He's here for the right reasons.  
  
And that is what love looks like, she knows. She's seen it before, reflected in her own eyes a long time ago and part of her wants to stay and watch, experience it again because it's been too long since she last knew the meaning behind a touch.  
  
The option is taken from her, Danny turning, spotting her though the glass and now his eyes reflect guilt. He flinches as though burnt, standing quickly and she doesn't miss the brief moment of hesitation that stills his movement before he reluctantly leaves the room.  
  
"Hey, sorry," he says, after joining her in the hall and she wants to tell him not to apologize.  
  
 _You've earned this place, I'm just a fraud._  
  
"It's okay. I mean, it's good that you're here," she tells him, blocking out the irrational surge of envy that comes with knowing that she could have tried harder.  
  
She could have loved him. Could have looked at him the way Danny does and maybe it would have been enough.  
  
"I should go…" Danny says suddenly, uncertain, not waiting for a reply before walking away and she can't call him back.  
  
Can't do anything but watch him go, mind screaming _I know, I know, I know_ until the thought makes her dizzy.  
  
~*~  
  
 _So he would have left._  
  
  
Danny looks at her strangely now. Like she's made of porcelain, cracks covering her façade and she knows he's expecting her to break.  
  
It's a testament, she knows, to the strength of his character, because, if it was her, she'd hate him with every fibre of her being.  
  
"Can I get you a coffee?" he asks, softly, hesitantly, last night's uncertainty still there and she wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until they both crumble to the ground.  
  
 _I know, I know, I know._  
  
"No, I'm good," she answers, default response and she's going through the motions again.  
  
Inching her way through the day, each moment bringing her to the next.   
  
She's fine. She's good. She can handle this. She's not falling part.  
  
"Okay," he replies, nodding, walking away and his steps lack force, lack distinction.   
  
He reminds her of the clay figurines she used to make for her mother in grade school. Tiny, pathetic figures without softness, fissures cross-crossing their surface. They shattered whenever someone knocked them from their place, landing on the floor as dust and jagged pieces of rock.  
  
She wishes someone would knock her from her place.  
  
~*~  
  
 _As the soul leaves the body torn and bruised._  
  
  
She can't go in.  
  
Can't pass the threshold of the door, her legs too numb to carry her. He's not here. Hasn't been since the first time and she knows it's her that's keeping him away. She imagines him pacing the length of his apartment --house, home, whatever, because she doesn't actually know where he lives-- torn between letting his feet carry him here and letting his mind keep him there.  
  
Contained, imprisoned and it's her fault.  
  
He could have told her, though. Could have said something and he's enough of a friend that it would have stopped her. Maybe. Probably not, because she was looking for an out. Looking for a reason and she doubts anything could have stopped her once she found it.  
  
It's stopping her now, though. Stopping her from crawling back to that place just so that she can silence the thoughts that follow her everywhere.  
  
 _Should have loved him._  
  
She might, a second time, eventually, but it's not worth it now. Not when she's seen the truth, become aware of what could be and what should be and she'll never be able to give Martin that.  
  
She doubts Danny can either --doubts anyone can but that's really not the point because at least Danny might try. It's better than she ever did, anyway, her entire time with Martin spent flinching at shadows and talking herself into wanting him.  
  
"Is he…"  
  
And Danny's presence is surprising, his words startling her and she jumps before she can stop herself.  
  
"No. I just… I couldn't," she says, unable to voice the thought.  
  
Danny seems to understand, nodding before sinking into the chair beside her, expression pained, clothes rumpled and she knows he hasn't been sleeping.  
  
"Is it okay if I..?" he says suddenly, gesturing to the chair he's sitting in and she wants to tell him that it's too late. That he's already sitting so asking is pointless.  
  
She doesn't.  
  
"Yeah, of course," she answers, distraught girlfriend and Danny deserves the truth.  
  
Deserves an escape from the misery that's written across his entire being.  
  
Not that she gives it to him, too caught up in her own misery and Danny nods like he's there for her and not the man hidden behind a window of glass.  
  
~*~  
  
  
 _As the mind deserts the body it has used._  
  
  
"He's going to be okay."  
  
It's the first time either of them has spoken since Danny first arrived. She's not sure why she says it, or who she says it for. She thinks, maybe, she just needed to break the silence, needed to fill the space between them and it's all she can do not to tell him everything.  
  
Not to ask why he never said anything and why he still hasn't said anything and if he ever plans on saying anything to Martin.  
  
"Yeah, he's going to be fine," Danny echoes, the words for her, she knows, and water comes unbidden to her eyes.  
  
 _I know, I know, I know._  
  
Yeah," she manages after a moment, using her sleeve to wipe the tears away before he can see.  
  
He does anyway, patting her back awkwardly like he never expected to find himself in this place and it's all she can do not to turn and seek comfort in his arms. He'd give it, she knows, let her cry on his shirt until there was nothing left, shoulder the burden that she no longer has rights to just to ease her pain.  
  
Selfless and she wonders what it would take for that to change. How long he'd sit patiently watching, drowning in unrequited love before it finally pushed him over the edge.  
  
~*~  
  
 _I should find  
Some way incomparable light and deft,  
Some way we both should understand,  
Simple and faithless as a smile and shake of the hand._  
  
  
Some days, she gets lost in the motions.  
  
Forgets that Martin's still lying in a hospital bed, barely breathing on his own and, on those days, she hates herself more than she usually does.  
  
She's not sure when she descended into a spiral of self loathing. When she became everything she's ever disliked in a woman.  
  
 _Should have tried harder._  
  
She tries not to think about, letting the day carry her through the minutes, focusing on getting through each hour because that's all she has the energy for.  
  
She can tell he's slipping. Sinking into his own spiral, becoming cold and distant and after three days of watching his descent, she breaks.  
  
Sobs in the bathroom for a full ten minutes before pulling herself together, splashing water on her face before leaving the sanctuary of low light and tile and seeking him out.  
  
She finds him on the balcony, staring out over the streets of Manhattan, watching the stream of cars that seem absurdly tiny from this height.  
  
"Does he know?" she asks, leaning on the rail at his side.  
  
"Does who know what?" he questions, unsurprised by her presence, eyes still locked on the ground beneath them.  
  
His shoulders are tense, though, and she can't recall if they were before. When it happened, she'd heard fear in his voice. Heard the tears he fought so desperately to keep at bay. He sounds much the same now.  
  
"He broke up with me, you know. Months ago. I don't think I was what he was looking for," she tells him, simple, honest, like she should have been when she first found him in Martin's room.  
  
He doesn't answer, but he's watching her now, staring, slight glimmer of hope enough to confirm her suspicions and she smiles.  
  
It's not permission. Not acceptance, just understanding and, after a moment, he returns it.  
  
"You should go see him. I don't think… I don't think he wants me there," she continues, swallowing against the tightness in her throat and willing herself not to cry.  
  
 _Should have loved him._  
  
But she didn't. And doesn't. And never will.  
  
And Danny does.


End file.
